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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29488656">Home</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiago/pseuds/Persiago'>Persiago</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Birthday Sex, Bottom Dean Winchester, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fix-It, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mild Angst, Sam/Eileen mentioned, fuck the finale, this started out as something cute but they're just heckin rabbits</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:14:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,048</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29488656</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiago/pseuds/Persiago</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is sorry he missed Dean's birthday.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>You can tell I went through a journey here from fluff to angst and it got away from me as these boys are just pure horndogs. I guess I had a point when I started but it disappeared with Cas' clothes?</p><p>Slapping a lotr-related quote at the beginning makes it seem like it has a point, doesn't it? </p><p>The only good thing about the finale is that whatever crap I'm writing, it's better than what the writers wrote.</p><p>Any mistakes are mine and mine alone.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>“The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.”</h1><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>The life as a hunter has left Dean hardwired to respond to any noises, come they in abandoned warehouses or in the bunker in his own room, in the midst of sleep. So when his door quietly opens, his awareness snaps back from the light, restless dream he was having, and he surreptitiously slips his hand under the pillow to grip his gun, under the pretense of shifting in his sleep. Immediately alert, like he’s been waiting for this moment for hours. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s just me, Dean”, a tired voice calls out from the door, a familiar gravel, accompanied by a small sigh. Dean relaxes his grip on the weapon, rolling onto his back and yawning widely, trying to chase that feeling of pleasant sleepiness again, now that he’s established there’s no immediate danger. He doesn’t open his eyes, listening as the angel shuffles closer to the bed, putters about in the darkness. He hears the shuffling noises as Cas undresses his coat and jacket, and a moment of silence where Dean imagines he must be trying to unbutton his shirt. </p><p> </p><p>“I thought you were supposed to come back tomorrow”, Dean mumbles, voice rough from remnants of sleep. He swallows around the cottony taste of his mouth, pulling the comforter tighter around himself to combat the chill of the room. The ancient, barely functioning heating system of the bunker never bothered him before, not until he had the luxury of cozying up to Cas every night. Now every time the angel leaves the bunker, sometimes for days, Dean grumbles about it and fetches thicker blankets and puts on some old, ratty woollen socks he would never be caught wearing in the daylight. Shut up, it’s not his fault he prefers to sleep with Cas. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes but- I wanted to come home”, Cas says softly. Dean hears the clink of the belt buckle, and he opens his eyes groggily, blinking against the darkness and trying to see the angel’s silhouette, but in vain. The room is encaptured in total darkness.</p><p> </p><p>“How’s Claire?” He asks, yawning again. Cas huffs fondly.</p><p> </p><p>“You know her. She can’t be tamed. She and Kaia had found some-” he stops for a moment and Dean hears soft thuds as Cas gets rid of his shoes, “-some vampire cult that had been responsible for kidnapping people for decades, so of course they dragged me into that hunt and I had to spend three days chasing vampires wearing idiotic masks, because apparently that was their “thing”-” Dean doesn’t see the air quotes but he can still hear them, and his lips quirk up into a small smile. </p><p> </p><p>“Sounds like a nice family vacation you had there, champs”, he says, rubbing the last of sleep from his eyes. The angel makes an non-committal sound in response. Cas has taken to spending some time with Claire occasionally, a few days here and there, and even though they’ve officially retired from hunting, Claire or others might manage to rope them into a hunt, because they’re that bad at saying “no” to people. Dean’s hardly heard from Cas in the past few days; a few text messages to let Dean know he’s alive and kicking. Now, he’s not saying he missed Cas or was worried for him - or maybe he was, sue him - but it’s nice to see him back and healthy. He knows the trips are important to Cas. Ever since they lost Jack, the blueness of his eyes was dulled somehow and even though it’s been more than a year, Cas is still not the same. He gets restless sometimes, grief shrouding his features when he thinks Dean isn’t noticing. “<em> I miss being a father to him”, </em>he confessed once, and Dean gets it that Cas is just looking for his place in this world again. They all are.</p><p> </p><p>The bed dips, as Cas sits down on the edge of it. There’s a tiny <em> click, </em>and suddenly the room is engulfed in dim, yellowish light provided by the bedside lamp. Dean blinks owlishly, eyes watering and stinging, and when his vision clears, he makes the outline of the angel, shirtless, body twisted towards him invitingly. Dean shifts to get closer to him, freeing his hand from under the covers to touch Cas’ back, fingers tracing the knobs of his spine and the adjacent erector spinae muscle. He doesn’t know why he still expects there to be some sort of weird energy, buzz of electricity or a strange hum when he touches where he imagines Cas has folded his wings, but there’s just the solid feeling of warm skin and strong muscles beneath his fingers. The dull light paints vivid shadows on Cas’ face, and his hair is a windswept mess. He’s more human than angel nowadays, but there’s still something very ancient about him. He’s like a sculpture, weathered by time, but still beautiful. Eternal. </p><p> </p><p>“How are things here? Anything happened while I was away?” Cas asks, fishing for Dean’s hand, intertwining their fingers easily. His hand is warm and dry, compared to the coldness of Dean’s skin. Cas’ thumb traces patterns on the back of his hand. Dean shrugs.</p><p> </p><p>“Not really. Sam and Eileen postponed their lovefest vacation a little, because they were sure I couldn’t handle being on my own for a couple of nights.” A bitter note creeps into his tone before he can take it back. </p><p> </p><p>“Dean-” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, you don’t have to give me a friggin’ lecture about it in the middle of the night. I know it’s for my own good and it’s not forever, all that crap. I’ve taken care of myself all my life and got this far, didn’t I?” </p><p> </p><p>“I never said you didn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>Cas doesn’t rise to the bait, and Dean’s not sure if he’s disappointed or relieved. He has argued about the babysitting complex with Cas, with Sam, even Eileen for a couple memorable occasions, and none of the fights have led them anywhere other than silent treatment and slamming doors. Sure, his drinking habit sometimes gets out of control, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t need supervision 24/7. “<em> It’s so easy to spiral out of control, and we need you to get better, alright?” </em> Sam tried to explain, using <em> we </em> like it was a group effort. A rational part of Dean’s brain agrees with them. When he’s alone, it’s so damn easy to pick up the bottle and not care about the consequences. The life of a hunter kept him always moving, always alert and he didn’t have the luxury to just stop and heal. But now, there’s no distractions, no next phases of some heroic plan to act out, no people to save. Things pile up, as they tend to, and alcohol is one of the healthiest coping mechanisms he has in his selection. Sometimes he drinks to forget the things he’s done. Sometimes he drinks to remember the things he’s repressed within the dark corners of his mind. “ <em> Why can’t I just be happy, Cas? We fucking saved the world. Sam got Eileen back, I- I got you back. Things are good, right? So why am I like this?” </em> Dean asked once, when he was in a bad way, thoughts dark and invasive. Cas held him, body tightly pressed against his back, a warm cocoon around him. “ <em> There’s only so much humans can take, Dean. And most humans have been through a mere fraction of what your soul has endured, so it’s only normal to feel broken.” </em></p><p> </p><p>He didn’t say it, but he wanted to. <em> I’m sorry for being so broken. </em>But he knew Cas wouldn’t have it at all, so he kept the thought in his head, whispered it in his mind every time he fucked up. </p><p> </p><p>Dean lets out a breath, squeezes Cas’ hand apologetically. He doesn’t want to fight about this. Not now, when Cas is right there, within his reach.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry”, he mumbles, searching the angel’s eyes for hints of anger. They look dark, almost black in the mellow lighting, but ever so gentle, like he always does with Dean. </p><p> </p><p>“Nothing to apologise for'', Cas says, letting go of Dean’s hand and rising from the bed to lift the covers, sliding underneath them, right next to him on his side. He splays his hand over Dean’s chest, the covers pooling around his waist, revealing his bare, unblemished skin.  “I’m sorry I missed your birthday.” Dean turns his head, catches the rueful look on Cas’ face.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, like I said before, it’s okay, man. I didn’t plan on celebrating anyway.” Cas leans closer and places a tiny kiss on his exposed shoulder, where the sleeve of the t-shirt has rucked up, as a response. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, but I still wanted to be here with you”, he half-whispers, lips still hovering over the spot he kissed. Dean keeps watching him, their faces close enough that their noses are almost bumping, breathing the same air. There are wrinkles around Cas’ eyes; he isn’t fully smiling but radiating contentedness all the same. Something eases in his chest, like he can breathe deeply after days of inhaling thinned air. It’s what Cas’ presence always does to him.</p><p> </p><p>“C’mere.” Dean doesn’t wait for Cas to catch on, but takes initiative by snaking a hand from under the covers and tangling his fingers in Cas’ dark curls, pulling him forward for a kiss. He tastes like rain and stormy winds, lips chapped and salty. Cas melts against him easily, opening his mouth and letting Dean guide the pace, hand curling around his torso possessively. “You cheesy cowboy. You wanna make it up to me, for missing my birthday?” Dean murmurs against Cas’ lips with a playful smile, taking his lower lip between his teeth and tugging it gently. He doesn’t like voicing it aloud, but god he has missed Cas, and it feels so good have him here. </p><p> </p><p>“I thought you didn’t want to celebrate.” </p><p> </p><p>“I might be persuaded”, he hums, placing small kisses on the corner of Cas’ mouth, jaw. The angel makes a sound, which might come off as gruff if you didn’t know him, but to Dean it just sounds amused. Cas lifts his head, shifting so his weight is on his elbow, leaning over Dean. His hand wanders upwards, tracing the outline of Dean’s mouth with his thumb, then trailing lower to his chin, to the hollow of his throat. His eyes never leave Dean’s, but the closeness doesn’t feel like it’s too much, more like it’s grounding him, keeping him here, in this current moment.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you want?” Cas asks quietly, breath ghosting over his lips. Dean shrugs, carding his fingers through the angel’s messy hair, sliding lower down into the nape of his neck to pull him into another, open-mouthed kiss. He feels Cas’ hand slithering over his chest and stomach, finding his hip bones through the covers, and he can’t help it when his breath stutters into the kiss when Cas palms him through the thick blankets. He drags the heel of his palm over Dean’s crotch a few times until his cock finally gets the memo and perks up. Dean can feel Cas smiling wickedly against his lips, before he gets up, giving him a final kiss that says <em> wait. </em>Cas rolls over, and Dean watches the muscles of his back ripple underneath the skin, as the angel rummages through the bedside table, locating the small bottle of lube quickly where he tossed it last time. Dean uses the lull of the moment to get rid of his t-shirt, throwing it haphazardly to the foot of the bed, just in time as Cas turns back and eyes him appreciatively. He tries to sit up fully, but the angel places his hand on his sternum and pushes him back insistently. </p><p> </p><p>“Stay”, he says, and Dean relaxes against the pillows, obeying without a fight. Suddenly the coldness of the room isn’t a problem any longer; he feels hot, blood pulsing in his veins, heart beating in his chest faster. He loves how Cas has that effect on him, after all this time they’ve been together, even after years of circling each other like cats in heat, avoiding this thing between them. Each time feels like something new, but at the same time it’s comfortable, like coming home. </p><p> </p><p>Cas lays down against his side again, body flush with his, and he cups Dean’s jaw and kisses him deeply, more demandingly. He remembers thinking about kissing Cas numerous times, imagining how it would feel to touch those chapped lips, to feel the slight scrape of his scruff against his mouth and jaw, but he didn’t realise how lost he would be the second that thought became reality. He’s been lost, but at the same time Cas is the only thing who can pull him back and keep him tethered. </p><p> </p><p>“What do you want?” Cas asks again, giving him the space to breathe. Dean’s throat works as he’s trying to sparse together coherent words, and he pushes the suddenly stifling covers off him, kicking them aside. The chilly air brushes against his heated skin, making it prickle.</p><p> </p><p>“Will you, uh, touch me?” He’s not even sure why he’s still hesitant to voice his desires to Cas still, but each plea feels like handing out the most fragile parts of his heart on a silver platter. The angel growls <em> yeah </em> under his breath, and he knows he needn’t have worried. He’s the only one who can witness Cas like this, becoming unhinged, certain beautiful sounds reserved just for him. That thought alone could be enough to drive him wild. Cas gets to work immediately, distracting him with lingering kisses, while his hand slides over Dean’s collarbone, brushing over his chest and nipple, following the curve of his ribs to his stomach, and the warmth of his palm leaves his skin burning and tingling. His fingers brush over the waistband of Dean’s boxers, and he hooks his fingers underneath it, dragging them lower. Dean helps by lifting his hips and they manage to get them off in a more or less coordinated manner. Dean’s hard already, and Cas grips him without any preamble, wrapping his fingers around the hardened flesh, making him gasp and buck up into his hand. Itching for something to do with his hands, Dean fumbles to wrap his hand around Cas’ wrist, but he pushes Dean off, placing a soothing kiss on the bolt of his jaw. </p><p> </p><p>“Let me take care of you”, he rumbles in a deep voice that goes straight into Dean’s gut, and he complies with a breathless moan, gripping the sheets instead and closing his eyes, going pliant under Cas’ touch. He feels the brush of Cas’ hair against his temple, as the angel cranes his neck to watch what he’s doing with his hand, warm, uneven breath tickling his cheek. Cas is affected more than he lets on, as is evident from the growing bulge against Dean’s thigh, but he ignores his own hard-on in favor of touching Dean. With practised movements, he jacks him off in a loose fist, thumb flicking over the head of his cock, and it’s a little dry and rough, but he feels the muscles of his lower abdomen tighten in anticipation all the same. His heart is picking up the pace, pulsing rapidly in chest so loud he’s sure Cas can hear it. </p><p> </p><p>“Good?” Cas checks, and Dean nods, letting out a sound that might be a small whimper. He didn’t even realise how tightly strung he’s been, but he knows he’s not gonna last for long. Cas huffs, nosing his neck, then licking a stripe downwards, following the tightened cords of his throat with his tongue. “Hold up”, he murmurs, taking his hand off him, and Dean opens his eyes to see what’s the problem, watching as Cas picks up the bottle and squirts the contents on his palm. His cock twitches and Cas takes him into his hand again, liberally spreading the lube on his erection. That eases the chafing, and Dean can’t focus on anything else but the easy glide of Cas’ hand on him, his breath hitching and hips pushing up to chase his own pleasure. He bites his lip to keep the moans from spilling out, as Cas keeps playing with his cock, massaging the head, coaxing precum from the slit by rubbing it lightly with his thumb. There’s a crooked, pleased smile on Cas’ face, watching Dean come slowly undone. <em> Smug asshole, </em> he thinks, dragging him down for an uncoordinated kiss to drive the smirk off his lips. Cas responds by cupping his tightened balls, rolling and squeezing them in a way he knows Dean likes it, but soon his hand travels lower and he instinctively spreads his thighs to let Cas continue his explorations. </p><p> </p><p>A finger touches Dean’s rim, passing over it several times, but never sliding in. Dean curses under his breath, shifting his hips impatiently, but Cas seems hellbent on driving him crazy. </p><p> </p><p>“Jesus, Cas”, he whines, but the angel doesn’t relent. </p><p> </p><p>“You want something? You can just ask for my fingers, Dean.” He doesn’t reply, just inhales sharply when the tip of Cas’ index finger briefly slips inside of him, before slipping back out. There are still things that are hard to ask, and he’s weighing whether it’s easier to comply with Cas’ request to beg or voice his own slight uncomfort, but Cas clocks his lack of response almost immediately, pulling back to watch him, a slight frown on his face. </p><p> </p><p>“Too much?” </p><p> </p><p>Dean blushes slightly, avoiding Cas’ eyes. “Uh, it’s okay, it’s just-”, he makes a vague gesture with his hand, not really sure how to explain it without sounding stupid, but Cas seems to get it, kissing his jaw apologetically. </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry”, he whispers, and <em> holy hell </em> he finally pushes two, lubed fingers inside Dean with minimal resistance, forcing a shuddering moan from his lungs, and he melts against the cushions, spreading his legs further, eyes fluttering closed. Cas slowly pumps his fingers in and out of him, twisting and spreading them slightly, aiming for his prostate with each pass.</p><p> </p><p>“You look so good like this, Dean. You feel good.” Cas’ voice is wrecked, and judging by the throbbing of his cock and the damp spot in his boxers against Dean’s thigh, he’s pretty far gone too, allowing himself to slowly rub against him. He grinds his hips against Cas’ fingers, encouraging him to go faster and at last the angel complies without a fuss, speeding his movements, finding that sweet spot inside of him that lights up every nerve in his body. Dean’s neglected cock pulses, leaking against his stomach, and he grabs it, starts jacking himself off roughly, breath stuttering. </p><p> </p><p>“Cas, fuck, I’m about to- so close, fuck”, he manages to breathe out, not sure if he sounds coherent or not, he doesn’t care, he needs to come like right this fucking second, to feel the waves of pleasure crashing against his body. His hand flies on his slickened cock, and Cas presses his fingers against his prostate, rubbing it methodically, and that does it. Dean’s body tenses up, back arching up, and he slips over the edge with a hoarse shout, spilling all over his fingers and stomach. Cas keeps stimulating him until he’s milked himself dry, clenching around Cas’ fingers, oversensitive and shuddering with each tiny touch. Only then he slips his fingers out of Dean, and he sinks down, feeling boneless and spent. He allows himself to float in the post-orgasmic haze for a while, listening to his own heartbeat slow down gradually, and he’s only vaguely aware of Cas wiping away the mess on his stomach and fingers with a small towel they’ve learned to keep always at hand. </p><p> </p><p>“Fuck, that was good”, Dean mumbles against Cas’ neck, when the angel settles back at his side, trying to angle his hips to keep himself from poking Dean. There’s a thick vein on his neck, which Dean can feel thrumming and pulsing when he sloppily traces it downwards to his jugular with his tongue. Cas swallows audibly. </p><p> </p><p>“That was good”, he echoes, and when he continues squirming and huffing discreetly, Dean rolls around to face him, placing a heavy hand on his hip. </p><p> </p><p>“Stop it, you horndog.” He tugs at Cas’ boxers, until he gets the message and slides them off himself, freeing his hardened cock. Dean wraps his fingers around Cas, pumping the length lazily, keeping their faces millimeters apart. Cas settles a hand on his bicep, digging his nails into the muscle without probably even realising it. His cheeks are flushed, pupils dilated, and the light paints vivid shadows on his face. Warm breath puffs against Dean’s lips. It’s a beautiful image; one that Dean can’t get enough of. </p><p> </p><p>“Horndog?” Cas breaks the moment with his innocently placed question, voice only slightly betraying his need. Dean huffs out a breath of laughter. Clearly he’s not doing enough, if Cas has enough functioning braincells to ask stupid questions. He amps it up, fingers ghosting over the slick head, enjoying the way Cas inhales sharply, his whole body twitching. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, you are. Fuckin horny.” </p><p> </p><p>“Shut up.” </p><p> </p><p>Dean observes the way Cas’ tongue darts out to lick his upper lip, when he smears the precum down the hard length, thumb tracing the ridge of the head. Cas’ eyes close briefly. He’s really close already; Dean can tell. His mouth opens, shuts, working towards saying something.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I- can I come inside of you, Dean?” He asks after a few seconds, breathless. </p><p> </p><p>“Fuck yeah you can”, Dean answers without hesitation, and then the next few seconds are a blur of moment when Cas pushes him on his back again and settles between his legs, gripping his thighs and pushing them towards his chest, exposing his slick hole. He slides home in a one, swift push, and they both groan loudly when he’s fully sheathed inside Dean. Dean’s overworked body is trying to rally, clenching around Cas’ thick erection, and it’s almost too much, bordering on painful, but it doesn’t matter when Cas begins to move, thrusting into him hard and deep and the sensation turns to just <em> blissful. </em>He floats, letting Cas play his body like an instrument, and it’s hard to tell who’s making all the noises; the moans and the whimpers drowning out the slick sounds of their bodies colliding. Cas’ hips speed up, snapping against his ass, and Dean feels the telling pulsing of his cock deep inside him when he comes, eyes closed, face upturned, breathing out words Dean can’t hear. For a moment it’s quiet, until Cas releases a shuddering breath and slides out of him. Dean can breathe again; he didn’t even realise he had stopped. </p><p> </p><p>He watches Cas, enraptured in the way he seems to glow, basking in the aftershocks. The angel finally opens his eyes, zeroing on Dean immediately, and a lazy smile lights up his sweaty face. Wordlessly, Dean reaches a hand out, and Cas crawls over him, sprawling partially on top of him. He’s like a furnace after working up a sweat, but Dean doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind the stickiness, nor the fact that his ass is gonna be sore in the morning. Cas burrows his face into Dean’s neck, throwing his arm around his chest, pulling him even closer, and Dean can feel each exhale against his own body, the way his heart is still rapidly beating, echoing his own. He finds Cas’ fingers, playing with them absentmindedly. Cas smiles against his skin. </p><p> </p><p>“Happy birthday, Dean.” </p><p> </p><p>Yeah. Things might not be perfect, he might be a broken mess, a hopeless alcoholic, and Cas a grieving father, but when they’re together like this, it doesn’t all seem too bad. When he’s concentrating on the scruff of his beard against his neck, how they’re breathing in sync, the way Cas seems to cling to him like he’s something valuable, it almost makes him feel like he’s on the mend. </p><p> </p>
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